


Blackmailed Enemies

by kierathefangirl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Superpowered Au, gerita - Freeform, maybe PruCan...not sure yet, maybe USUK, spamano - Freeform, superhero/supervillain au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14415456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kierathefangirl/pseuds/kierathefangirl
Summary: Lovi has been blackmailed by supervillains to fight/pretend to hate superhero Toni. Toni is unaware of this. Toni takes note of Lovi at school and expresses worry, and friend Gil agrees this worry is well called-for because of what happened that weekend.





	1. ‘Hero’

**Author's Note:**

> So let's get the serious stuff out of the way first...  
> Numerous trigger warnings. Lovi is depressed/borderline suicidal, lives only for brothers. Lovi is injured in beginning, not holding back on the details of his injuries (stream of consciousness, what happens happens). Lovi & Feli cut. Rape & death threats, and actual rape & abuse in-story (villains are villains, ya know? It's horrible but it actually happens.)
> 
> Lovi and Feli are transgender, girl to guy. Feli and Sebastian are bisexual, Lovi is homosexual. Toni is bisexual, Gil is bisexual, Francis is bisexual. Toni's OC brothers are bi. Matthew is homosexual, Alfred is bisexual. May have Arthur drop in...he's homosexual.
> 
> I am in no way condoning the villain's behavior. This has happened to some of my best friends, and I don't think it's okay. This is just a central part of why Lovi and Toni are actually at odds, rather than having them just hate one another.
> 
> This is set in first person POV. The perspectives used are identified by chapter at the beginning, centered bold-italic with squiggly lines.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovi contemplates his current situation on the way home.

**_~Lovi~_ **

I don’t hate him. He’s busy being a ‘ _hero_ ’, busy keeping face on TV. But he keeps hurting me, and it’s not my fault Hayden and his buddies threatened my brother’s lives and bullied me into helping them. I don’t wanna be here. I’m scared enough of Hayden to cooperate, but I don’t hate him. He’s not a bad person; he’s sweet and outgoing at school when he’s not wearing the mask and the cape. I keep away from him because he’d probably recognize me, but I see him being sweet and helping depressed people feel good about themselves. I could use his help, honestly, if I could just convince him to not hurt me.


	2. Home Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovi gets home a few hours late, and is confronted by a concerned Feli.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: injuries/abuse, rape & death threats, severe depression.

**_~Lovi~_ **

I got home late today. Feli noticed, since he was actually home when I got back. I usually get home two or three hours before him, and also since it’s still sort of light out he can see the blood before I get a chance to hide or clean up.

“What happened?” he demands, vaulting up to his feet.

I look away and brush past him into the kitchen. I’m able to clean most of the blood off with the rag and some water rinsed through my mouth, then slide up the hall and change into clean clothes. Feli stays frozen where he was.

I comb my hair flat, then head back for the kitchen. This time Feli catches my arm and doesn’t let go. His grip is painfully tight on one of the bruises. “Wait.”

“Ow,” I mutter, and I try half-heartedly to pull my arm away.

“Don’t make me call Sebastian,” Feli threatens warily, but honestly it’s not much of a threat. I could use his help.

“Go ahead,” I invite, “it won’t change anything. I could probably use his help anyway.”

“With  _ what _ ?”

“Feli, let—”

“Don’t. Tell me.”

“I can’t. If I talk, you die. I’m not going to be the reason you get hurt.”

The surprise is enough for his grip to loosen and let me get away. Feli follows me, though, unwilling to let that go so easily.

“Hey,” he says insistently, “stop running away.”

“I can’t talk about it, and I don’t want to. There’s no point in chasing me around.”

This time, Feli notices it when the water leaves my mouth tinted red. “You’re bleeding out of your mouth!” he protests.

“I’m fine,” I shrug it off. “I’ve had worse.”

“Lovi!” he whines.

“Feli, please.”

He pouts at me. I sigh exhaustedly and look away. “Call him if you want. I’m still not talking.”

Feli reaches out to lay a hand over my stomach, which is still unwrapped, raw, and bloody. Just his light brush is enough for me to cough and spit blood in the sink, and enough for a curse word or two. “Fuck, don’t do that,” I say, using my jacket sleeve to dry the blood from my lips.

Feli gives me a wide-eyed look. “Lovi. Seriously. What the hell.”

“I’m fine,” I insist. “I just need to put some gauze on it.”

“Gauze? Lovi, you’re bleeding out your goddamn mouth!”

His voice gets progressively louder until he’s basically shouting at me. I flinch back and look away. “I’ve had worse, it’s not that bad.”

“Lovi, I swear to God.”

He grabs my wrist and drags me from the house. “You need help, whether you like it or not.”

“No, Feli, I can’t—”

Feli whirls me around to face him, and he glares daggers at me. “Stop. Either you talk, you go to the hospital, or you come with me. I am  _ not _ going to let you die if it’s the late damn thing I do. Fight me one more time, see how much you like it.”

I’m brought up short by the fierce stubbornness of his tone. He’s usually soft, sweet, his voice a warm thing of entreaty and love. His voice now is a dagger of anger, frustration, helplessness, and insistence. His words hold more weight than usual, and I know just from his words that he’s immovable. I know I won’t win with words.

I do the only thing I can think to do: instead of trying to say anything and possibly piss him off further, I take his hand and draw him in. It’s the first time in six years I’ve hugged him. He’s hugged me plenty of times, but I rarely am the one to initiate affection because he’s so distractible and I don’t want to hold him back. But this time, all his attention is on me so it doesn’t matter.

Feli is stiff with surprise. I make sure he won’t get blood on him—at least, if he doesn’t move too much he won’t—and rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to protect you.”

Feli melts in my arms and responds to the affection, holding me and starting to cry. “You’re scaring me. I don’t want you to be hurting.”

I release a slow breath. “How about this: I’ll let Ludwig’s dad take care of me, if you stop asking questions I can’t answer.”

Feli groans a little. “Fine.”

Feli lets go, takes my hand, and draws me up the walk. I fall into step with him, and I’m unable to keep him from noticing the slight limp when it gets worse the faster we go. Feli slows a little and glances at it. “What the hell happened to your leg?”

“I dunno. Hurts like hell.”

“You don’t know, or you can’t tell?”

“Bit of both. I know it started hurting after something specific, but I don’t know exactly what happened to it.”

“Oh.”

He tightens his grip on my hand and drags me up the drive. “Ludwig!”

The blonde German pokes his head out the front door, and Feli drags me up onto the step. “Is your dad home? Lovi came home late covered in blood. And he’s coughing it up, and he’s limping.”

Ludwig curses, then turns to shout up the hall, “Papa! Injured kid!”

As soon as the words ‘ _ papa _ ’ and ‘ _ injured _ ’ leave his mouth, his dad is up and moving. He’s down the hall in under a minute. “What?”

Ludwig gestures vaguely towards me. “Apparently he came home late coughing up blood, drenched in it, and limping. Don’t know why.”

“He says he can’t say why because they—whoever they are—would kill me if he told,” Feli says.

Ludwig stiffens and goes wide-eyed. Feli clears his throat. “He says he’s had worse, but I barely touched him and he coughed up blood and cursed.”

The tall man gives me a cursory once-over. “‘ _ Had worse _ ’? Really?”

“It’s true,” I mutter. “It’s been bad enough I’ve actually gone to the hospital before.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t say where you were?” Feli demands.

I wince. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Feli makes a vague sound of annoyance. I don’t answer.

Ludwig shifts his eyes to me. “Kill?”

I cough. “I won’t repeat the exact wording. At least…”

I glance at Feli. “Not in front of him. It makes it worse. He knows enough.”

“He can hear you,” Feli grumbles, and he shoots me a disgruntled side-glance.

I mutter an apology and side-hug him. “I love you too much to scare you like that.”

He grumbles again. I don’t say anything else.

Their dad sighs, takes my hand, and draws me inside. “Let’s see how bad it is.”

He stabs a finger at my stomach. I mutter a string of curses under my breath and glare at him, and a little blood washes into my mouth.

His eyes widen a little at the reaction. “Christ,” he says in this higher-pitched startled voice, “I barely touched you.”

I grumble a little. He sighs and turns to Feli. “Gimme a couple hours.”

He drags me off up the hall, and once we’re out of my brother’s earshot he tells, “You  _ can’t _ honestly tell me you’ve had worse. You’re bad enough I’m not sure you’ll survive.”

“I have. No major broken bones, and most of it doesn’t really hurt much. It’s usually more sore, there’s usually a broken arm or leg or a cracked skull. I usually have to go to a hospital.”

“You  _ should _ ,” he tells me in a voice bordering on anger. “Just because you don’t have to doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. You could die.”

I cross my arms. “I’m only here so Feli’ll stop asking questions I can’t answer.”

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

“Both. Unless I want Feli raped, murdered, and raped again, I can’t.”

He stops dead. I look away. “That’s the threat. I can’t.”

“Oh,” he says blankly, then he shakes himself a little. “Ludwig would never let that happen. Gil wouldn’t let that happen.  _ I  _ wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Yeah, you say that now. You don’t know who they are.”

“And you do?”

“Ever watch the news?”

His eyes widen. “You’re talking those dickheads on TV who keep murdering innocent people? The ones the superhero keeps stopping?”

I nod. “They threatened Feli to make me fall in line.”

He mutters a few curses. “Well—well—well—ugh. Still, no.”

I cough and breathe shallowly. “Either way, it’s not worth risking his life.”

He sighs and drags me up the hall into an office. “It’s not worth  _ your _ life either. Do you think your brother would be happy to see you die?”

“Oh, god no, I don’t think that. He’s the reason I’m still alive. I’m too stubborn to do that to him.”

He blinks a few times and shoots me a sidelong glance. “What about yourself?”

“My brothers,” I shake my head.

“You don’t live for yourself?”

“If I did that I’d be dead already. I’d be dead a million times over. Not just because of myself, but because I’d give up when it comes to them. I wouldn’t go to a hospital. I would’ve died had I not.”

He frowns at me. “That’s sad. Have you tried—”

“Therapy?”

He nods. I bark a laugh. “That made me ten times worse.”

“Oh. Well…maybe Toni can help you?”

“Who?”

“Gil’s friend. Spanish, brown hair, green eyes, sweetheart, popular.”

“Oh. I’ve seen him around.”

_ So that’s the hero’s name. He’s not great at disguising himself. _

The man shrugs. “He’s helped a lot of people, including Gil. Maybe he can help you.”

“I’m kinda scared of him, to be honest. For one, if he finds out I’m…like, somehow connected to a bunch of crazy murderers that’s not great. For two, the last person who was nice to me—like,  _ genuinely _ nice—turned out to be a rapist and a murderer who proceeded to threaten my brothers. I have severe trust issues, and I can pretty well guarantee you he’s not enough to fix them.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “but he’s stubborn enough to try. He doesn’t like giving up on people, no matter what. It’s why Gil’s okay again.”

I hum a general acknowledgement.  _ Yeah, sure. But you don’t know who he really is. He’s hurt me before. He doesn’t like me. He’s more dangerous than he looks. _


	3. I Wanna Help But Don’t Know How

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil talks to a concerned Toni about Lovi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: death & rape threat mention, depression mention, injuries described.

**_~Gil~_ **

“Like, he keeps avoiding me at school and stuff, and he always looks so terrified around people. I wanna help him but I don’t know how.”

“Well…”

“What?” he asks.

“Well, he came over to see Dad this weekend.”

“What? Why?”

“He got the shit beat out of him, that’s why. He was drenched in blood, coughing it up, limping. Dad took care of him, and he said those assholes on TV—y’know, the murderer dickheads—threatened if he told the truth or did anything about it they’d rape, then murder, then rape his little bro Feli. Y’know the cute one Ludwig likes? Him. They’d do that to  _ him _ . If he doesn’t ‘ _ cooperate _ ’ or whatever, whatever the hell that means. He told Dad he’s terrified of people ’cause the last person who was genuinely nice to him turned out to be a rapist and a murderer who proceeded to threaten his brothers, and that his brothers are the only reason he’s alive. He’s depressed or some shit. He’s got serious trust issues. Dad’s worried about him. He had a broken ankle, three ribs in his lungs, two missing teeth, a shit-ton of bruises, and a black eye. Dad suggested he maybe talk to you, but he says he’s scared of you or some shit ’cause what if you find out about the threatening assholes and his trust issues and stuff.”

I pause to take a huge breath. “So yeah. Maybe you can help him, but you’ll have to kinda win him over ’cause he’s scared of you.”

Toni gives me a blank look. “Oh. Wait, what? Why’s he scared of me?”

“I dunno. He seems to think you’re dangerous or something. He didn’t exactly say.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“Yeah, me too man. I dunno. I don’t like it. I think he needs help. He said the last therapist he talked to made him ten times worse, so he won’t do that.”

“That’s sad.”

“Dad said that, too. He didn’t seem to agree. He said ‘ _ that’s just life _ ’. He’s breaking.”

“Yeah. I don’t know. I’ll see what I can do. That’s scary shit.”

“Yeah,” I laugh nervously, “it really is.”


	4. Hiding In An Empty Classroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovi is sketching in an empty classroom...when he's discovered by /him/.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: abuse & depression/suicidal mention.

**_~Lovi~_ **

It’s just before twelve o’clock, lunchtime, and I’m hiding from Hayden and his friends in an empty classroom. He didn’t say I can’t hide, just that I can’t fight back and I can’t tell.

That’s when he finds me. I’m sketching on a drawing pad in the back corner of the room, pretending to be okay. My hand naturally moves to draw my little brother, one of the times when he was smiling and happy. He hasn’t been happy a lot recently. I miss that sweet innocence he had.

“That’s really good,” his voice acknowledges over my shoulder.

I swear I got electrocuted with how quickly I jump, drop my pencil, and dart away from the desk into the corner of the room. His face is as sweet as ever, begging for calm.

“Hey,” he says, and he approaches on light feet, “I don’t bite.”

_ Yeah, right. You’ve hurt me before. I won’t go through this again, I won’t. _

He pauses like he can see it written in my eyes or etched on my face.  “You’re hurt,” he says, and he sounds sort of surprised-upset. He reaches out a hand and brushes a thumb under my newly blackened eye, and I flinch back.

I say the first thing that comes naturally to my lips, barely thinking about the implications of speaking to such a stubborn sweetheart. “Don’t touch me.”

He blinks a couple times. “It’s okay,” he says uncertainly, and he lifts his hands in a display of shy surrender. “I won’t hurt you.”

I bite back a snappish  _ You already have _ that tries to crawl up my throat and clench on my vocal cords. “Yeah, right.”

My voice is sarcastic enough to get the point across. His left eye closes a little with a worried smile, and he lays a gentle hand over one of mine. “Relax.”

I press away into the wall. He takes the hint and pulls back, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

I try to just dart around him. I say  _ try to _ , because he catches my arm and stops me. “Hey. Wait.”

I try to pull my arm away, but as I discovered with him before he’s stronger than me, much stronger. I doubt he’d even notice if his eyes didn’t detect the pull. He seems to realize this, too, and he uses my arm to pull me around in front of him. “Don’t run.”

“Let go,” I say, but the conviction has been replaced by trembling fear. He’s not too stupid; he’ll notice. He’ll know.

Sure enough, his face melts even further if that’s even possible with this guy. I can tell he caught the fear. He knows.

He moves his grip to my shoulder, which still doesn’t let me escape unless I want to dislocate or break it. His other hand grips my shoulder on the opposite side, and he gives me one of his famous heart-melting smiles. I refuse to let it work, I refuse to let him— _ awww, he’s so cute. Cute and attractive! He’s winning on a level I can’t. _

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

_ I fucking knew it. I knew it. He’s fucking irresistible! How am I supposed to fight him? _

That’s all it takes: my muscles relax despite the screaming protests of my mind, and I give him one of those blank looks Feli told me was my equivalent of confusion.

He knows exactly when he wins, and one of his sweet, warm smiles spreads over his face like honey. He rubs my arm a little reassuringly, and he says “Gil told me you were at his house this weekend. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say stiffly, but that’s only instinct. It’s still sore, but if I admit that he could use it against me.

“That’s a cool cast,” he says, nodding to my ankle. “Ever thought of having people sign it?”

“What? No.”

He laughs. “A lot of people get their casts signed in Sharpie.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. It makes them feel special, I guess. I’ve never broken anything so I haven’t done it myself.”

“Lucky bastard,” I mutter.

“Huh?” he asks with that innocent little voice that makes icicles melt.

I look away. “I didn’t say anything.”

“How is that lucky?”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve broken every bone in my body, some of them more than once. Almost all of it was preventable, if I hadn’t met a bunch of assholes.”

“Dickheads with power that threaten sweethearts who shouldn’t be touched,” he suggests softly.

“Gil told you about that, didn’t he,” I ask flatly.

He shrugs. “We don’t keep secrets. It’s nice.”

I roll my eyes again. “Some secrets have to be kept.”

“Like what?”

I open my mouth to snap an answer, then stop to think about it for a minute. “…Like secrets that would shatter sweet, innocent kids if told.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Feli. You’re protecting him.”

“He’s aware of that much. It’s harder when he’s home the minute I get there.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s more than just—”

He sighs exasperatedly and looks away. “My dad’s a cop, y’know.”

“I don’t care. It’s too late for that. They’re powered.”

His eyes turn back to me, and he actually looks worried. “Dad deals with powered people. He has powers, too, he just uses it to arrest murderous powered assholes like them.”

I cross my arms and shift my gaze out the window. “Fuck off.”

He laughs again. “Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you honestly don’t want it to stop.”

“I do,” I say before I can stop myself. “I hate my life. I love Feli enough I’m still here, but I don’t  _ want  _ to be. And you can’t tell me I’m fixable, because you can’t fix broken things.”

He goes very still for several minutes. The clock on the wall strikes twelve before he moves again, and his eyebrows draw towards his emerald eyes in a display of bewilderment. “Then why?”

I grumble under my breath. “I’m scared, okay? I’m scared of everyone. I’m scared of you. I’m scared of them. I’m scared enough of them to cooperate, but not enough to hate superhero jackass like they want me to. He’s at least a generally good person; they’re just assholes.”

He stiffens with surprise. I glance towards the door to make sure no one’s listening before I go on. “And you can’t say you won’t hurt me, asshole, because you  _ have _ . Not dressed like that, but you have.”

His eyes widen a little with innocent surprise. I try again to pull away. “You got what you wanted. Let go.”

He shakes his head, and he actually starts crying. “I don’t like hurting people. I don’t like hurting anyone. I only hurt people when my hand is forced.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because I’m  _ so  _ dangerous. Explain that away.”

He stutters a couple times, his voice cracks, and he actually lets go—but he lets go to hide his face in his hands and cry.

I take the opportunity to turn away from him. “I’m already broken. I don’t need you getting involved. Enough assholes are involved in my life, and you’re no better.”

The softest moan of emotional pain draws me to turn back around. He throws himself rather aggressively into a chair, punches at his leg, and drops his head in his arms. He continues to cry.

I take the chance to grab my sketchpad, slide it in my bag, and sling my bag on my shoulders. But even then, he’s too stubborn to let me get away.

He gets to his feet, uses his black jacket sleeve to dry his face while looking away, and gets in my way, blocking the path to the door. “Wait.”

“Oh for the love of God,” I grumble, but I let him stop me. I don’t try to go around. “ _ What? _ ”

He flinches back. He may have hurt me, but at least he shows some apologetic regret. He doesn’t have that amused smile Hayden does whenever he hurts someone; instead, his eyes show nothing but a thousand apologies.

I cross my arms. “Go on, asshole. Explain that away.”

He takes a deep, seemingly painful breath. “Look. I probably don’t look it, but I’m as scared as if not more scared than you are of Hayden and them. There’s I don’t know how many of them—”

“Ten,” I interrupt.

“Ten, whatever,” he doesn’t argue with me, “and I’m just one guy trying to help out. There’s a lot more of them than of me. If I die, which is actually a possibility, I’m irreplaceable. They go unchecked, aside from Dad’s efforts to contain them. I’m trying to help my dad, I’m trying not to die, and I’m scared. I’m really scared. Everyone messes shit up when they’re scared, you can’t say you’re any better. How many times have you gotten really scared and accidentally said something you later regretted, or done something you later regretted?”

I take a deep breath. “I already did. There’s a reason I don’t talk to people.”

“Lovi, please,” he says, and he sounds like he’s gonna cry again.

I close my eyes and release a slow breath. “Fine, I’ll play along. A lot, mostly around Feli.”

He nods. “See? No, I’m not perfect. I nearly lost my eldest brother once because I fucked up big time—you know how big of a deal that is. I’m sorry, I really am. But at least give me some credit.”

I open my eyes and glare at him, but it’s lost most of its weight. “I am. You’ve helped people, you’ve helped a lot of people. You’ve done a lot of good. I recognize that. I know they would never apologize or even give a damn that they made me suicidal. But you can’t deny that I did nothing to you, nothing to make you think I’m a bad person or make you have reason to hurt me.”

“I never said you did.”

I take another deep breath. “I’m scared of a lot of things. I’m not scared of my brothers, but they’re the exception. I’ve known them and trusted them my whole life and they’ve never let me down.”

He clears his throat. “I get that. But you’re not broken, not yet. Bent, maybe; cracked, sure. But broken is a few steps beyond you. You still have a reason to live, a powerful one.”

“True…why’s it matter?”

“Because I want to help you. I don’t know how, but I do. I like helping people. I like making people feel okay again. Most people aren’t as bad off as you, I’ll give you that much, but that doesn’t make you impossible. People aren’t fixable like some broken toy; people need time and a chance, and even then they’re never going to be completely whole again. I understand that much. All I’m saying is please, give me a chance. I want to help you.”

“…You’ve made it worse.”

He shuts his eyes a moment. “I recognize that. I fucked up, okay? Give me a chance to fix it.”

I glare at him for a minute, and he just looks away. I think about it.

“…Fine. One chance. You fuck up I won’t try again.”

He breathes like it’s the last time he’ll ever breathe, a gasp of relief. He hugs me and runs off, finally leaving me alone.

_ Jackass, _ I think to myself as I leave the room and run for class.


	5. I Win!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni rushes off to tell Gil he won.

**_~Toni~_ **

Gil flashes a smile at my approach. “Hey. You look happy.”

“I win!” I tell him excitedly. “He agreed to let me help him!”

He laughs. “Awesome. Did you find out why he’s scared of you?”

“Yeah.”

He gives me a weird look. “Ya gonna tell me?”

I shake my head. His eyes widen a little. “You never keep secrets.”

“Actually, yes, I do. I don’t like to, but I do. If it puts your life at risk to know, I won’t tell. Why he’s scared of me ties into the one secret I’ve kept from everyone at this school, including you. It’s too dangerous to explain.”

His eyebrows vanish into his hair. “Oh, really?”

I sigh and look away. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone. Lovi knows because he’s part of it.”

“He’ll probably talk,” he says.

I shake my head. “Not with Feli on the line. They’d hurt him and we both know they would.”

“They?”

“They. Again, I can’t tell you.”

He makes a sound of annoyance and crosses his send stubbornly. “I’ll make you talk.”

“No, you won’t. Unless I absolutely have to, I won’t say anything.”

He pouts at me. I release a slow breath. “I’m sorry, Gil, but I can’t tell you.”

“You know I’m going to find out.”

“I know, and we’ll deal with it when we get there.”

He grumbles and turns away. “Whatever.”

I apologize again. “I don’t like lying, so I just don’t talk about it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he says.

_ Please let this blow over. I want to keep you safe. _


	6. Bad Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni wakes up at 5AM on a Friday with a really bad feeling...and follows that feeling to its source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: verbal abuse mentions. Toni's backstory is given here.

**_~Toni~_ **

It’s five o’clock on a Friday morning. I don’t have to be up, but I’m startled awake by a really bad feeling that drives me up to my feet and draws me to pull on my clothes then my superhero costume. I slip from the house and follow that feeling, because the last time I didn’t Matí nearly died.

I find out why I had a bad feeling pretty quickly: it’s Lovi. Hayden is beating on him. He’s my enemy, both from school and in this form. He doesn’t know I know who he is, but he’s horrible at disguising himself.

I take a deep breath. I don’t have time to think, to plan. If I try to do that, or to get Dad, it’ll be too late to save him.

I drop down next to them and plant a foot right in Hayden’s weak spot on his side below his ribs, right where he doubled over last time. I discovered it by accident, and it helps me now.

He stumbles back a few steps, coughs, then straightens and glares at me. “Fuck off. This is none of your business.”

“It  _ is _ my business when you’re hurting innocent people, asshole.”

His eyes narrow, as if that makes him scarier. “Fuck off!”

“No. Leave him alone.”

Lovi gets shakily to his feet and hides behind me. I shove Hayden back a few steps. “Go. Either you leave now, or I call the cops on your ass for abuse and harassment.”

That’s enough; he takes off running the other direction. He doesn’t want to get caught, he’s not stupid.

I turn around and drop to the ground in front of Lovi. “Hey.”

He backs up a step and stares at his feet. “How’d’you know?”

“Bad feeling. Last time I ignored one, my brother nearly died. I learned pretty quickly not to.”

“Oh.”

I scoop him off his feet. He flinches a bit, but he curls up against me like he trusts me.

Now’s the difficult part; we’re closer to Gil’s house than the hospital. Every second spent moving matters. But there’s a great risk that Gil will answer the door, that he will recognize me. I wouldn’t be at all surprised. But put him in a little risk, get him to stop asking questions, and save Lovi’s life…or risk Lovi’s life to save my identity?

Lovi seems to realize this, too. He looks away. “They’ll probably tell Feli.”

“So?”

“Toni. Please.”

“Lovi, we’re closer and this is your life.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know you don’t, but your brothers will.”

“…You’ve got a point,” he acquiesces.

_ Fuck it. It’s not worth his life. It’s worth the risk. Maybe he won’t even answer the door. _

Lovi can tell exactly when I decide to take the risk. He groans a little. “Fine.”

I make it to Gil’s without incident, thank god. But here comes the risk.

I stop before the door, take a deep breath, and knock. Lovi curls up in a tighter ball, leaning away from the door and into me.

I close my eyes.  _ Please don’t let Gil answer the door. Please don’t let Gil answer the door. Please don’t let Gil— _

“Lovi,” Gil’s voice opens my eyes.

_ Damn. _

Luckily Gil doesn’t immediately recognize me, but he isn’t an idiot. The longer I hang around, the more suspicious he’ll get.

I lift Lovi a little. “He was getting beat up by a local bully: Hayden Fisher.”

Gil lifts him from my grateful arms. “Well, shit, man. He’s a dickhead to most people.”

He darts up the hall. I back a few steps away with the intent to run before he figures it out, but it’s too late; he darts back and pulls me inside, closing the door behind me. “Wait.”

_ Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I’ve never done this before. What now? _

He pulls me down the hall into his room, shuts the door and window, then turns to me. “So this is what you’ve been keeping from us.”

_ Damn. I knew it was risky. _

He pauses, looks me over once, then meets my eyes. “Toni.”

This time my cursing slips out loud. “ _ Shit. _ ”

He crosses his arms. “Explain.”

He moves forward, shoves me down on the bed, and sits next to me. “So you’re…what, a superhero?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

He raises an eyebrow, and even with the lack of expression from exhaustion I can see the anger in his eyes, the lack of understanding.

I release a slow breath and look away. “It’s not that simple. I just—”

I sigh. “Look.”

Gil glares at me. “Go on.”

I close my eyes. “It’s not about you. I trust you.”

“Then why?”

“Because I don’t wanna put you at risk. Because I give a damn about you.”

“What? How is that—”

“Gil. Let me talk.”

His eyes narrow. “Why should I?”

I open my eyes and meet his harsh gaze, which immediately softens when he realizes I’m crying. He relaxes and turns towards me, and the anger fades. “Go on.”

I take a deep breath. “Yes, I’ve been hiding things from you. You already realized that.”

He nods. I clear my throat. “I’m trying to protect you. I can’t  _ not  _ have friends—I’m an extrovert, for crying out loud, I’d die. I’d go crazy surrounded by my own thoughts and I’d get self-destructive.”

He purses his lips and looks away. I look away from him, too. “The more you know, the higher the risk. The higher the risk they go after you and hurt you or someone you care about. The higher the risk of me getting exposed and actually going crazy.”

He bites his lip and looks like he’s about to protest when I glance at him, but he breathes and seems to think better of it. “I don’t understand.”

I remind myself again to breathe, then turn back to him. “You know the assholes on TV you were talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re the  _ they _ . They’re the ones who hurt Lovi, and they’re the reason he’s scared of me. Because, y’know, they’re supervillains and they want him to hate me.”

“That’s why he was scared of you finding out he knew them,” he says. “He said something about it being dangerous if you knew he was connected to them.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not his fault and I know it’s not. That’s what matters. But they also want me dead, and there’s ten of them and one of me. If I die, there’s no fixing that.”

“That’s part of the problem!” Gil exclaims, and he starts actually crying.

I sigh exasperatedly and shut my eyes. “I know, Gil. I know. I’m fucking scared. I’m scared of them, I’m scared of dying, I’m scared of losing Lovi, I’m scared of losing my friends, I’m scared of getting exposed because it’s basically a death sentence. I’m not stupid. I know it’s risky.”

“Did you not think I’d figure it out?”

“Oh, god no. I knew you would, you’re perceptive and I knew you would. But we were closer to you than any hospitals, and I knew time matters. There’s the risk of exposure, and the risk of Lovi dying. I picked the better of the two options.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Better of the two?”

“Would you rather have Lovi die because I’m avoiding the possibility of you figuring me out?”

“…Good point.”

I rub a little at my eyes. “It’s a really long story.”

“I have all day,” he says. “Start talking.”

“Gil—”

“No. We’re not doing this again. Tell me.”

I groan and hide in my hands. Gil wraps his arms protectively around me almost like my brothers would’ve, and he draws me against him. “Relax. Getting worked up won’t help anyone.”

I shut my eyes. “Fine. How about this. Don’t tell Francis  _ anything _ , don’t tell anyone anything, and I’ll talk.”

He grumbles for several minutes before answering. “I won’t tell Francis, but I kinda have to tell my dad. He knows when I’m bluffing or hiding things.”

I clench my jaw a minute. “Fine. But he can’t tell either.”

“Deal.”

I slide onto the floor. It barely hurts, since the power stuff makes very few things hurt.

Gil moves onto the office chair next to me. I bury my eyes in my hands, breathe, and try to figure out where to start. “Shit, I don’t even know where to  _ start _ .”

“Powers?” Gil suggests.

“That’s kinda in the middle.”

“Then start at the beginning.”

I lean against the bed-frame. “Okay. You know how I never talk about Spain?”

“Yeah. I’m guessing you left people behind.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a good reason for that.” I get up and start pacing. “If I sit still I’ll start crying. Bear with me; it’s difficult to talk about.”

He nods. I run my fingers shakily through my hair. “I have three brothers. They’re all older than me; eight, ten, twelve.”

“Years older?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t even know you  _ had _ brothers.”

“I don’t like talking about it.” I bounce on my feet and continue to pace. “I was the mistake.”

“What?”

“My parents didn’t want another kid. They thought three was plenty, and stressful enough.”

He blinks blankly. I turn from him and pace the other way. “Every two weeks or so, right from the beginning, Mom found something I did ‘ _ wrong _ ’ and brushed it off, because ‘ _ you’re a mistake, you have room to fuck up _ ’.”

“What? Seriously? What the hell.”

I shrug. “I got used to it. From youngest to oldest: Jesús is a priest, Andrés is a realtor-broker, and Matías is a doctor.”

“That’s a funny coincidence,” Gil laughs.

I shrug again. “Yeah, I guess. Growing up I called him Medico Matí. We all had childhood nicknames. It was how we bonded.”

“Cute.”

“I guess. Mom is a conversion therapist.”

“Oh. No wonder you didn’t get along.”

“Yeah, well…” I take a deep breath. “I didn’t really talk to Jesús much, and what he did say was brainwashed and mean. Andrés rarely spoke to anyone. Matías and I—contrary to popular belief, because he was a teenager almost immediately so we should’ve clashed—got close.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, as if he knows what’s coming.

“I was ten when I came out to the family.” Here, my hands start shaking. I start pacing in circles.

Gil nods. We’ve been through that much.

I breathe. “Mom, of course, said she always knew I was a mistake. Jesús dismissed me, took Mom’s side. Andrés and Matías didn’t say anything at all. The rest of them told me to get out or die. Dad didn’t give a damn, so he took me and helped me get here and settle in.”

“Okay…”

“When I was eleven, Hayden and his friends kidnapped me and dragged me into an abandoned nuclear plant and turned it on. We all got blasted with God-knows-what and radiation and shit. We should’ve died, but we didn’t. They used their power to hurt people.”

I rub my eyes. “I decided to use it to get Mom’s attention in a more positive light, and to get my brothers’ attention.”

“Oh.”

“It still hasn’t worked,” I point out. “She calls a lot to talk to Dad, and he’s asked if she’s watching the news and she says no.”

“Tell her to,” he says.

“Yeah, like that’ll work. She doesn’t like me.”

“…I don’t know about that. Have you listened to what she tells your dad? Have you ever heard her ask if you’re okay?”

“No.”

“Has he said she’s asked?”

“Once.”

“That’s enough to know she  _ cares _ .”

I look away. “Yeah, well either way she doesn’t give enough of a damn to reach out. Dad gave her my number and said she should text or call occasionally, and she hasn’t.”

“Maybe she’s scared you’ll reject her. If you wanna talk, you should be the one to reach out.”

“That—that’s besides the point.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “I’m just saying don’t give up yet. You never know. They say a mother’s love never dies; I’d be surprised if she genuinely doesn’t give a damn.”

“I’ll…keep it in mind,” I allow, “but either way the original purpose fell through, and I started doing it just because I liked the feeling of helping people, and of seeing people happy to see me.”

“That’s a good reason,” Gil says. “Better than jackass and his friends.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I guess so. Point remains.”

Gil looks away. “So basically, this started because of asshole and his friends before I met you, and it continues now because you like helping people.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I can live with that. Are you okay?”

“Sort of. I miss them.”

“Then reach out!” he insists. “They say a mother’s love never dies; give her a chance!”

I close my eyes and breathe. “I’ll think about it, but I have severe anxiety and I doubt everything I think about doing for longer than three seconds.”

“Well, try to not think too much on it. Just call on a whim.”

“I’ll probably have a panic attack if they actually answer the phone.”

“Then don’t do it alone. You could call with me there, or with Lovi. Ya never know.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Gil hugs me for a minute. “Just don’t let your anxiety stop you. Don’t let anything get to you. And if you don’t come talk to Dad whenever they hurt you I’ll kick your ass.”

I laugh a little. “Yeah, okay.”


	7. Text At School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni gets a text from an unexpected someone.

**_~Toni~_ **

It’s the middle of fourth period that she texts me. I’ve been waiting years, and finally after I gave up it’s here. “ _Your dad says he’s worried about you. Is everything okay?_ ”

Why now? Why now?

My head hits the desk and I start crying. The phone screen turns off after a second and I shut my eyes. I never fall apart at school, so my teacher comes up to make sure I’m okay. She’s Mom Teacher, and she hugs me and asks if everything is okay. I tell her I’m okay, I just got a text I’ve been waiting to get for years and I’m overwhelmed. She accepts this and returns to her desk, and I pretend not to hear the other kids whispering that I never cry.

The rest of the school day is a blur. My fifth period teacher tells me I don’t have to do the homework because I’m crying, and I leave without waiting for Gil like I usually do.

After I get a block away Gil comes running after me. I don’t make any moves to stop him like I could, but I don’t wait either. He catches up on his own and circles around me, and he raises a hand in front of me to stop me. “Hey, wait.”

I stop. He steps closer and takes my arm in one of his hands. “You don’t normally take off. What happened? Are you okay?”

I shake my head. “Years.”

That’s all it takes; he understands. “Your mom called you?”

“Texted. Same difference.”

“Did you text her back?”

“No.”

“Text her back!”

“I don’t even know what to say to her.”

My shoulders tremble and my head bows, and Gil steps up and hugs me. I hug him back and hide my face in his shoulder. “The other kids have been laughing at me, which only makes it worse. People stare in the halls. I’m breaking.”

He massages my shoulder like the brother he’s become, and he strokes my hair and draws me out of sight of the kids leaving school. “Hey, hey, shhh,” he hushes me. “It’s okay. Deep breaths. You got this; you’re strong. You’ve got this.”

It doesn’t take long for him to mostly calm me down. He pulls back to look me over and flash a weak smile. “You don’t have to say something you don’t mean, y’know. You could text her and ask why now, after all the years she’s had to reach out.”

“Yeah, I know,” I agree. “I just—fuck, man, I waited years. And it’s not until I gave up that she finally…”

I sigh exasperatedly. He sighs, too. “Yeah, it’s shitty. I get that. But give her a chance!”

“Yeah, whatever.”

He steps back. I take a shot at some emotional honesty: “I want my dad, but he’s at work being a cop and he’s got better things to do than—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gil stops me, “don’t even start that shit. You want your dad, go get your dad! You’re a superhero, Toni. Do what you want.”

I choke a weak laugh. Gil turns and reluctantly walks away.

I make the quick change, drop my backpack at home, and leap across town to the station. I slip inside, and the cops’ secretary leaps to attention.

I take a deep breath. “Officer Carriedo.”

“He’s in his office,” she stammers, pointing up the hall.

I zip up the hall into the room, close the window, cover the cameras, and close and lock the door in one whirlwind of movement. Then I move over to one of the chairs and collapse.

Dad jumps a bit, looks up from his desk, then relaxes. He gets up and moves over to me. “Toni.”

He sits down next to me and wraps an arm around me. “You don’t usually—”

“What did you say to her?”

“What?”

“Mom.”

“I…expressed some concern. Why?”

“She texted me.”

He blinks a few times. “Now? Why now?”

“I’ve been asking the same question for the last two and a half hours.”

“When did she text you?”

“Fourth period. My teachers told me I don’t have to do any homework because I fell apart. The other kids were making fun of me.”

He tightens his grip and sighs. “That’s just because they don’t understand the gravity of what just happened. If they did they wouldn’t be laughing.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Did you text her back?”

“No. I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Right,” he sighs. He doesn’t seem concerned or upset like Gil was, just understanding. He understands the full extent of the situation.

After a minute thinking, he says, “Honestly, the first thing I’d do is ask her why. Why now. Why, after years of saying nothing, did she finally reach out. Why?”

He rubs my shoulder a bit. “Just breathe. It won’t help anyone if you don’t, honey.”

“Right,” I mutter. I pull out my phone, and he helps me press my finger over the home button to unlock it because my hands are shaking so badly I can’t.

I swallow, open the text, and shakily type an answer. “ _Why? Why now? I waited years for you to text me, you had years. Why?_ ”

Dad taps send for me because my hand is shaking too badly to tap the button. I turn off the screen and pocket my phone, and I take a few deep breaths.

Dad rubs my arm a bit, and we both get to our feet and breathe. He hugs me reassuringly, waits until I’m calm again, and steps back. “Deep breaths, sweetheart. You got this. You’re almost an adult, you can breathe through this. Remember who you are. I believe in you; have a little faith in yourself.”

I nod, and I uncover the cameras for him and leap out the window. He sits back down like nothing happened and continues working.

I take a deep breath and go for height this time. This is how I cope; flying takes all semblance of emotion and throws it out the window until all I can feel is cold, tension, wind.

I go up until I’m above the clouds, until I hit the atmosphere and start to fall. I twirl around and dive back into the clouds, taking my anger and frustration and confusion and fear and depression and channeling it into almost swimming through the clouds like a dolphin in water. I leap out, dive back in, twirl around, and where no one can hear me I release the frustrated screams.

Back and forth, over and over, dancing in the sky until I’m dizzy. It takes my mind off everything and fills my lungs instead with water and cool air. The tears stop flowing in minutes, and I’m able to let all the emotions out in a healthier way than bottling them up like I used to.

I twirl around an airplane, wave at the people inside, dive down and rip the door off a crashed car to release the trapped child within. I lift him safely outside and hand him to his frightened mother, and I take off back up into the clouds.

It’s not long before my phone dings with an answer, and I freeze mid-air and pull it out. _Please don’t be bad. Please don’t be bad. Please don’t be—_

“ _I’m sorry._ ”

What?

My phone pings again. “ _Your grandfather has us trapped. He’s out for a week, out of country, or I wouldn’t be reaching out. If he catches me I’m dead. He’s been preventing me reaching out. I can hardly reach out to your father without him breathing down my neck. We need an out but we don’t have enough money and we have no other way out. I’m sorry. I wish it was easier. We miss you guys._ ”

My heart falls to the concrete. I drop a few feet, just below the clouds, and shakily I type an answer. “ _We may be able to get you out. Dad’s been complaining of missing you too._ ”

It’s risky, but it may well be worth it. I watch her type an answer. “ _No, sweetheart, that’s risky and you know it is. If he catches you—if he catches the money before we do… There’s too many risks._ ”

“ _I never said send money. We don’t have much either. But we can fly you down on our own. Dad and I are powered. Y’know, like Superman? We can fly. We can get you here._ ”

“ _That’s even more risky! What if you get caught? What if you pass out? What if you can’t fly that far? Sweetheart, this isn’t as simple as flying away. There’s more than that._ ”

“ _I know it’s not simple. But I have friends who would help if asked, I have Dad, and I have what little hope is left. I can take him. I’m not alone._ ”

Now she’s calling. I sigh and pick it up. “Mamá, I’m literally flying right now. I’ll get knocked out of the sky if we talk for too long. I’ll run out of air and have to drop lower, and I could get hit by an airplane. That’s why Dad was asking if you were watching the news; I’ve been pasted all over it.”

“Sweetheart, there are so many risks, and I don’t—”

“Mamá, por favor.”

She stops. I shut my eyes. “I know it’s risky,” and I’m crying again. “I know it is. I know. But I don’t care, I don’t. I’ve been waiting for years for you to say something, anything. I’m not gonna throw that chance away because I’m scared, because you’re scared. Don’t you remember what you told me when I was little? Courage isn’t about a lack of fear—that’s foolhardiness. I’m not invincible and I know that. Courage is about being afraid and doing the difficult, sometimes dumb shit anyway. Yes, I’m scared, yes I know it’s risky, but I don’t care. Yes I’m scared of him, but I can’t let him stop me. I can’t let him get between me and my family. I’m done letting him win. This time, _I_ win.”

“Son…”

“Don’t. Just don’t. You won’t convince me it’s not worth the risk, because it is.”

“Antonio, I’m scared,” Mom says. “How do you know you can go that far?”

“Because I have. I’ve come back numerous times but I let him win because I was alone and I was scared. This time he doesn’t win. This time I bring Dad and my friends, and this time I win.”

“You have?”

“Yes. I kept coming back. I told you already I waited years. I didn’t just sit around idly twiddling my thumbs; I was up and about, helping people, talking to people, trying to get the tiniest scrap of information that told me you were still alive. I know I can go that far, and I know from experience people are light as a feather to me, so that won’t be an issue either. Just trust me; I have all the resources I need. The only thing I need is time.”

“You only have a week,” she says, “and even then he might come back early.”

“I know. That’s enough time. That’s enough. I can deal with that. I just need an hour, and two to fly because it may be far by plane but when you’re flying without speed limits you can get there pretty fast. A week is more than enough; even if he comes back in a day I’ll be okay.”

She sighs. “It’s the middle of the night. That’s the only reason I’m getting away with this.”

“Yeah, I know. That gives me a couple more hours than I need and I can fill everyone in on what’s going on. Just be up by six or seven and ready to go. I’ll take care of the rest.”

I hang up and pocket my phone before she can argue, and I leap up through the clouds with a display of excitement, a twirl, another dive through the clouds. Once I’m calm again, I drop from the clouds and twirl down towards Lovi and Gil. I need to power them so they won’t get hurt by my grandfather and teach them, then I need Dad, then I need a couple hours. That’s all.


	8. Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni has an idea.

**_~Toni~_ **

I follow the same sequence Hayden did and close the door. Dad didn’t get his power from this plant, but I did. Dad stands back against the wall, Lovi leans on the door, Gil holds the bar on one of the walls and his little brother’s hand. I step forward and flip the last switch.

It burns like hell, and I get thrown into the wall and dropped face-first on the floor. Some of the power overflows from Dad and I into Gil and Ludwig and Lovi, making them also more powerful than Hayden.

I push back to to my feet and turn it off. Gil releases his brother’s hand in his excitement. “I’m flying!”

Ludwig looks to Lovi. “How long is Feli going to be alone?”

“Probably about five hours,” Lovi says. “Long enough to be dangerous.”

Ludwig nods and turns to me. “Are we done?”

“Not yet.” I unlock the door. “I need some time to teach you. Then yes. You need to know how to control your power.”


	9. Who Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni makes it to Spain, and an old friend answers the door. (Adorableness ensues.)

**_~Toni~_ **

“Who are you?” he asks.

“Who I am doesn’t matter. Sofía, Andrés, Jesús, y Matías Carriedo—I need to talk to them. Alone.”

“It matters,” he says, “because we’re avoiding a certain someone or Grandpa will kill us.”

“Abuelo Antonio isn’t here, and I can get you out safely if you want,” I shrug. “…Cousin.”

His eyes widen. I drop the rest of the way to the ground. “I haven’t seen you in seven years, Nicolás. You got big since then.”

“Antonio!” he exclaims, and he leaps into my arms.

I hug him for awhile. He and I grew up together. He was like a little brother to me. He’s thirteen now, and I’m seventeen, but we click together like we were never separated.

He pulls back to look me over. “You’re a superhero!”

I laugh. “I wouldn’t quite call it that, but yeah. Maybe an antihero.”

He regards me with wide eyes. “Can I come?”

“Do you want to? You wouldn’t be able to come back.”

“Sí.”

“Okay. Go get Mamá y mis hermanos and yes you can.”

He runs inside. Dad, Lovi, and Gil hover overhead, and Dad makes the comment that he didn’t know Nicolás and I were close. I shrug. “He’s like a little brother. I had his back and he had mine. Not much has changed.”

“Ah.”


	10. Maldito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni goes back to Spain with just Gil and Lovi, with a different plan in mind.

**_~Toni~_ **

Once everyone had all their things together, I take Matí’s hand and hold Nicolás on my hip, Lovi takes Andrés (mostly because he’s quiet and Lovi appreciates the quiet), Dad naturally takes Mom, and Gil takes Jesús. We fly home, and I leave them to settle in. Now for the part I didn’t tell Dad about.

Lovi, Gil and I fly back to Spain. Sure enough Abuelo Antonio is there, and I drop behind him. “Oi. Maldito. Abuelo.”

He turns around. Lovi and Gil hover to my left and right, Gil on my right and Lovi on my left. I drop to the ground. “Hola, Abuelo Antonio. It’s been awhile. You’ve been an asshole lately.”

He glares. “Antonito. Hola, maldito. Where have you been?”

“Out saving people, unlike you. Some deign to call me a hero.”

He scoffs at me. Gil crosses his arms. “So you’re abusive dickwad.”

I stiffen with surprise and whirl to look at him. “Gil!”

Lovi clears his throat. “Well, he isn’t wrong.”

My voice splutters in an attempt to reply. Lovi drops a little lower. “You’re a homophobic, transphobic dickwad. Toni is better than you by a longshot.”

“Lovi!” and my voice squeaks.

He shrugs. Gil nods. “He’s right.”

“I never spoke to you,” Abuelo snaps.

Gil crosses his arms. “You don’t have to. Toni is my friend, and we don’t keep secrets.”

Abuelo whirls on Lovi. Lovi looks the other way. “I embody everything you despise. Don’t try and tell me you’re innocent.”

“What?”

Lovi moves a little behind me. Abuelo puts two and two together. “Disgusting.”

“Hey!” I snap. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

He brushes me off. I breathe. “I don’t want to fight you, but I will. We will.”

“You wouldn’t win.”

“You willing to bet that on all the money you have?”

“Psh, definitely.”

I turn to Gil. Gil shrugs, and with a blur of motion he reappears with a written message in hand confirming what he just said. We both sign it, and Gil tapes it temporarily to the wall.  _ And now we fight. _


	11. The Consequences Of Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni goes home after winning the fight and learns the consequences of success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good chunk of Toni and Matías' conversation is in Spanish. Most of it is translated, with the exception of the more common "why?" (¿Por qué?) and little things like "hermanito" (little brother).
> 
> If "No" is translated, that means it's in Spanish so he has a Spanish accent to the word. It just means he's not speaking English. No is the same in Spanish and English with the exception of accent (Spanish has a softer "n" that barely seems to be there when you speak it).

**_~Toni~_ **

We won, and he signed off his bank account to me. I’ve heard he’s rich before, so I guess I’ll see how true that is now. We go home and leave him at the hospital we brought him to.

I hand Dad both papers: the paper signed affirming he’s betting his money on us losing, and the signed off account. He sighs. “What did you do?”

“Went back,” I shrug.

Dad sighs heavily. “Why?”

“Abuelo.”

“What? Wha’d’you do?”

I cross my arms. “He’s alive. But he won’t be hurting anyone ever again, and he has no money. We took him to the hospital ourselves, so he’ll be fine.”

Dad rolls his eyes. “Son, that’s—”

“I know, I know. I know I shouldn’t’ve but I couldn’t help it. He called Lovi disgusting, scoffed at Gil, and he’s been hurting people I care about. Of course I snapped.”

Dad looks away. “Whatever.”

The cold, quiet voice holds more weight than if he’d screamed disappointment in my ear. I know he isn’t really dismissing it.

“Dad, please. I’m  _ seventeen _ —and my friends, my family, are the only reason I’m still alive. You can’t just let it go when someone hurts the people who keep you alive.”

Dad disappears out the window without answering me. Matías is home, but the others have left to find jobs locally. Instead of flying and screaming into the clouds, I go into my room and scream my frustration into my pillow. I don’t usually do that for fear of being overheard, but if Matí overhears that’s fine. He and I were close before this, so I don’t really care if he overhears.

It only takes a minute for Matías to enter through the bedroom door that bounced back open and sit down on the bed next to me. His hand reaches out to touch my back. “Toni?”

I don’t answer, and I hide my face in the inside of my elbows. But Matías, as I remember, is too stubborn to let that stop him. He sighs, but he insists on poking me and again saying my name. “Toni. Hermanito.”

I hide under the blankets. He sighs again and pulls back the blankets, and he lifts me into his lap. “Hey. Novio. Listen to me. Talk to me.” (( _ Sweetheart. _ ))

I curl up against him, and I hide my streaming eyes in my jeans. He tips my head back and kisses my nose, and he uses his sleeve to dry my face off. “What happened?”

My shoulders hike up towards my ears, and my arms move from my legs to wrap around him instead. His arms naturally rest around me in a light hug, and the fingers of his right hand dance across my back in patterns of comfort, Celtic and Scandinavian art representing peace and hope.

After a few minutes, he tries again. “What happened?”

My tense muscles melt against his warmth, and habitual disclosure drives away my anxiety. I always talk to him when I get upset, so my anxiety can’t tell me he’d get mad.

I release a slow breath. “Papá se enojó mucho conmigo.” (( _ Dad got really angry/mad at me. _ ))

“¿Por qué?”

“Porque volví. A España. Con mis amigos.” (( _ Because I went back. To Spain. With my friends. _ ))

“And?”

“Abuelo Antonio.”

“So? Why’s that a problem?”

“Llamó desagradable a mi amigo Lovi porque es gay y transgénero, y se burló de él, lo despidió y calificó a mi amigo Gil de idiota.” (( _ He called my friend Lovi disgusting because he's gay and transgender, and he scoffed at, dismissed, and called my friend Gil an idiot. _ ))

Matías sighs. “He’s still an asshole. I’m not surprised.”

“No, no, no. No es por eso que Papá está enojado.” (( _ No, no, no. That’s not why Dad’s angry. _ ))

“Then why?”

I don’t answer. He sighs. “Toni, por favor. ¿Por qué está enojado Papá?” (( _ Toni, please. Why’s Dad angry? _ ))

I sigh and look away. “Porque me rompí. Probablemente estado acumulándose durante años, pero espeté.” (( _ Because I snapped. It’s probably been building up for years, but I snapped. _ ))

“Wha’d’you mean?”

“También te enojarás conmigo.” (( _ You’ll just get mad at me, too. _ ))

“No, I won’t. It’s probably stupid.”

“Matí. No es estúpido.” (( _ It’s not stupid. _ ))

“Then tell me,” he says.

I sigh and look away. “Abuelo Antonio está en el hospital. Lo trajimos allí.” (( _ Grandpa Antonio is in the hospital. We brought him there. _ ))

“¿Por qué?”

I chew nervously on the inside of my lip. “Porque nosotros—o más, yo—le sacamos de quicio.” (( _ Because we—or more, I—beat the shit out of him. _ ))

“Oh. ¿Por qué?”

“Porque nadie se mete con mis amigos y mi familia, especialmente cuando ya me sentía como una mierda y como una pila inútil de basura.” (( _ Because nobody gets to fuck with my friends and family, especially when I already felt like shit and like a useless, worthless pile of garbage. _ ))

“Uh…what?”

“I’m not repeating it.”

“No, no, no, that’s not…the…the…feeling like shit part.”

“What about it?”

“Uh…why’d you feel like shit?”

“Long story.”

“I have all day.”

“No.”

“¿Por favor? Tengo todo el día.” (( _ Please? I have all day. _ ))

“No. ¿Cuántas veces tengo que decir que no?” (( _ No. How many times do I have to say no? _ ))

“¿Por favor? Quiero saber qué está pasando.” (( _ Please? I want to know what’s going on. _ ))

“No.”

Matí surprises me by starting to cry. He never, ever, ever cries. I’ve never seen him cry. It’s rather unnerving to see the most emotionally stable person in my family break down in tears.

I tighten my grip and snuggle against him. “If I talk I’ll start crying again. I’m a mess.”

He shakes his head. “ _ I’m _ a mess. You’re just breaking under the pressure.”

“Mamá me llamó un fracaso, un desastre y un error al crecer. Ella no hizo lo mismo contigo.” (( _ Mom called me a failure, a mess, and a mistake growing up. She didn’t do the same to you. _ ))

“You’re a miracle,” he disagrees firmly. “Un  _ milagro _ —not a mistake.”

“Mom would argue with you,” I shrug. “She just missed Dad and if she didn’t talk to me he wouldn’t talk to her.”

Matí wraps his arms tighter around me and his crying gets worse. “You’re not. You’re not.”

I close my eyes and hide my face in his shoulder. “Te amo, Matí. Por favor deja de llorar. Solo para. No puedo soportarlo cuando otras personas lloran.” (( _ I love you, Matí. Please stop crying. Just stop. I can’t stand it when other people cry. _ ))

He’s quiet for awhile, just crying, before he sucks in a big breath to talk again. This is so strange to me, so abnormal, so scary, so sad. I don’t like this, I don’t. I swear I don’t.

“Háblame. No he tenido la oportunidad de estar ahí para ti en años y ahora que finalmente lo haces me rechazas. ¡No puedo ayudar si no me lo dices! Por favor dime. Por favor.” (( _ Talk to me. I haven’t gotten the chance to be there for you in years and now that I finally do you’re turning me down. I can’t help if you don’t tell me! Please tell me. Please. _ ))

I swallow, cough a few times, shift uneasily, then answer. “Tiene mucho que ver con Abuelo Antonio y Tío Fernández y Mamá. Está retorcido, oscuro, y—¡y tengo miedo! Lo haría, pero tengo miedo.” (( _ It has a lot to do with Grandpa Antonio and Uncle Fernández and Mom. It’s twisted, dark, and—and I’m scared! I would, but I’m scared. _ ))

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” he says in that soft, reassuring voice of his. “I’m not going anywhere. I got you. Talk to me.”


End file.
